When Hell Freezes Over
by demelzap
Summary: Alaska February 2008, Chris Jericho and Lillian Garcia visit Dutch Harbor in the middle of an Alaskan Hurricane. Sparks fly. In chapter two, Lillian provides an ear when Chris worries about Rebecca Michaels.
1. When Hell Freezes Over

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these character names, no disrespect is intended.

**When Hell Freezes Over When Hell Freezes Over**

"This seat taken?"

Chris looked up from the changing landscape outside the bus window and found William Regal hovering in the aisle.

"No Willie, I was saving it for you," he said as he pushed his bag from the seat.

"Somehow I rather doubt that," Regal smirked as he sank into the seat. "But thanks just the same. I don't know who in their bloody right mind scheduled a tour of Alaska in the dead of winter."

"Oh come on," Chris said as he shoved his bag under the seat in front of him, "It's not that cold."

"That's right sunshine, you don't really know what cold is unless you've been in a Winnipeg winter and slogged through a snowstorm stark naked to play hockey or some rot like that."

"I wasn't going to tell the story again," Chris said with a laugh, "And besides I wasn't naked, I had my briefs on."

"Scoundrel," Regal said as he settled back in his seat.

Chris turned to look out the window again. It was early in the trip and fatigue hadn't set in yet, but boredom was firmly entrenched. Boredom and a longing for home. He hadn't been back on the road all that long and he missed the comforts of home.

"There's a sight for sore eyes," Regal murmured. "What is it the youngsters say? I'd tap that."

"You're going soft in the head Regal," Chris said as he turned from the window and watched a bundled up Candice make her way down the aisle. "She's half your age, and you're a happily married man."

"Happily married yes," Regal said, "But that and half my age wouldn't stop me. A body's got needs."

"Needs," Chris snorted, "That's why you have a hand and the hotel gives out lotion and a box of Kleenex."

"Very funny," Regal said. He slouched lower in his chair. "Out here in this godforsaken place no one knows what goes on."

"Your conscience knows," Chris said.

"When did you get so high and mighty?" Regal snorted.

"I didn't _get_ this way Willie," Chris said, "It would take a lot for me to consider being unfaithful to my wife."

"Like what?"

"Hell would have to freeze over," Chris said with a wink.

"Cute," Regal said.

"Look," Chris said as he leaned closer, "You know there was a time when I tore it up on the road as good as the next guy. But these days things are different."

"I hear you," Regal said, "But that doesn't mean…"

Chris chuckled, "To each his own."

They fell into companionable silence then, and Chris turned to look out the window. The Alaskan scenery was wild, and beautiful, but he couldn't keep his thoughts away from the longing for home, and Regal's casual words added something deeper to the longing.

His reverie was interrupted yet again as the lists of PR assignments began to filter back through the bus. A quick glance showed he and Lillian would be heading out to some place called Unalaska to tour a World War II bunker. He smirked as he saw Regal's name paired with Candice's.

"You're in luck Willie boy," he said as he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket.

"Rather," Regal said.

* * *

Unalaska was a two hour flight from Fairbanks. Lillian gamely kept up with Chris as they made the rough jeep ride out to the bunker. They posed in the snow and both agreed that it was an interesting historical site. An hour later they loaded back into the jeep and headed back to town.

"Dutch Harbor is primarily known for crab fishing," their guide told them.

Lillian gripped the door handle tightly and squinted out the window, "Maybe we have time to grab a bite to eat before we head back to Fairbanks then."

"Not hardly," the guide said, "There's a storm blowing in. You two should hang on tight, I'll try to get you back to the airport before they cut the flights."

Chris gripped the opposite door handle tightly as they careened down the rough road. He dipped his head and looked out the front window, "Wow," he said, "That's some storm."

"It'll be a good one," the guide said.

When they reached the airport the sky was dark, and the wind was beginning to pick up. They thanked the guide and ran from the jeep inside to find the pilot waiting for them.

"Sorry folks," he said, "But we're staying put for tonight. This isn't just a storm, it's a Bering Sea hurricane. I'd hate to risk it on a flight back."

"The office won't like this," Chris said.

"Not much we can do about it," the pilot said.

"I'll call the office," Lillian said, "You see about getting us some rooms."

"Try over the Grand Aleutian, they'll probably have something," the pilot said.

* * *

February was not the height of the tourist season, and they found the hotel had rooms in plenty. They also found they had the bar to themselves, and they ordered steaming plates of crab. Lillian asked for wine, and the bartender unearthed the last bottle he had from the back of the fridge.

"Crown Royal?" Chris asked hopefully.

A dusty bottle was pulled down from the shelf above the bar. Chris lifted his glass in an impromptu toast, and they turned to look out the window at the angry storm.

"This is nothing like a Florida hurricane," Chris mused.

"Nope," the bartender agreed. "There's a saying 'round these parts that this is where hell freezes over."

_Hell freezes over_ Chris blinked as the words echoed in his brain.

"You folks be wantin' anything else?" the bartender asked.

"If you could just bring the bottles," Chris said softly.

Chris kept up a steady stream of banter, and kept their glasses filled as he strove to keep his thoughts away from the eerie similarity of the hell freezing over comments. When the drinks were finished, it was time to make the trek from the bar, across the icy parking lot to the wing that held their rooms. They both bundled up tight and stepped out into the frigid, whirling storm.

Lillian ran squarely into his back as he stopped inside the building, and she gasped.

"So cold," she whimpered.

He turned and pulled her into his arms, "You're shivering."

"I can't take the cold Chris," she said softly, "Not like you can."

"Come on," he said, making the decision in an instant, "I'll get you warmed up."

He led her down the hallway, and without letting go of her hand he dug his key out of his pocket and let them into his room. Inside he slipped out of his coat and wrapped it tightly around her, the warmth from his body would seep into hers.

"Can you trust me?" he asked gently.

She gave him a lopsided smile, "Trust you Chris? The Ayatollah of Rock 'n Rolla? My old signing buddy?" She took a deep breath, "I trust you."

"Good," he said. He fiddled with the dials on the heater and cranked it up to high. Then he turned and folded the covers back on the bed, found an extra blanket in the closet. Keeping his back to her he said, "Undress and get into the bed."

There was a small gasp, and then he heard the rustling of her clothing. He took a deep breath and began to shed his own clothes. This was nothing, he told himself. Good old-fashioned body heat was the best way to get warm.

The lights flickered as the storm continued to batter the town, but they did not go out. Together, keeping their eyes averted, they climbed into the bed. Lillian gasped at the cold sheets, and without hesitation Chris slid closer and tucked her firmly against the warmth of his body. Arm over her midsection, knees tucked in behind hers, the pile of covers tucked under her chin.

"Comfy?" he asked softly.

Slowly she relaxed into the heat emanating from his body, and she whispered, "Warmer."

Outside they heard the muted sounds of the storm, but the room warmed steadily as the heater cranked. Lillian settled back against Chris, and he clenched his hand into a fist and closed his eyes.

"Chris?" she said as she settled her bottom against his growing erection.

"I know," he said, his voice hoarse, "I can't help it."

Slowly she twisted around so that her forehead rested against his. She groped for his hand beneath the covers and twined her fingers with his. "Do you want me to go find my own room?" she whispered.

"No Lillian," he said softly. He squeezed her hand gently. "We're a long way from home, a long way from civilization even. I'd be lying if I said I've never been attracted to you, because I have. This was a chain reaction of events, and something tells me that there wouldn't have been any way of changing the events, or stopping them. I think this was meant to happen, I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

She eased closer, nudged her leg between his and pulled their joined hands up to rest her lips against the back of them. "No one has to get hurt Chris."

He eased his hand behind her, and trailed it down to cup her ass, pull her closer against him, "If I had a condom…"

"I have one," she whispered.

He pulled back and met her eyes.

She closed her eyes, and soft color covered her cheeks, "It wasn't for you," she said, "I always carry one…for just in case."

"Well this qualifies as just in case," he said.

"It's in my purse," she murmured, "There's a zipper pocket on the inside."

He reached up to cup the side of her face, and press a kiss against the tip of her nose, "Don't go anywhere," he said softly.

Her purse was on the floor near the door, and he found the condom just where she said it would be. He kept his back to her as he tore the package open and eased the condom over his length. When he turned back he found she was watching him. She raised her arm and allowed him to slip in beside him, pulled him close against her as he settled.

All the hesitations eased away as he found her lips and kissed her, felt her return the kiss with fervor to equal his own. Neither spoke as they explored one another's bodies with gentle fingers. Lillian rolled on her back and groaned when Chris rolled atop her, cradled his erection between their bodies. Her hands trailed down his back and gripped at his buttocks as he slid lower and teased at a taut nipple with his tongue.

"Ohh," she groaned and arched up against him.

"Shh," he murmured as he drew upon her breast, slipped down to tease fingertips against her hip.

She spread her legs, raised them to curl around his back as he moved from one breast to the other. He shifted to the side and reached down to tease against her mound, slip lower to press inside her.

"Burning," she whispered as she writhed against him.

He rose above her, slid his fingers from her and reached to guide himself to her entrance. Only then did he dare to make eye contact with her. Breath expelled on a prolonged moan he eased inside her, and then his eyes slid closed again.

She drew her legs up firmly around him, and he dug his knees into the mattress. He angled his thrusts in such a way that before long she arched up against him with a cry of release. It didn't take much more before he joined her with a stifled roar.

The crescendo passed, he eased back, rolled down beside her and curled her against him again. He caught his breath as he buried his nose in her hair, pushed his throbbing body against her back.

She found his hand and tucked their fingers together. Outside the storm had also reached its zenith and had begun to blow out. Without speaking Chris reached up and flipped the light off, then lay down beside her again, lulled by her breathing until they both fell asleep.

* * *

They were quiet as they dressed the next day, and yet there was little awkwardness between them. Somehow they found the easy cadence of banter again as they ate breakfast, checked out of the hotel, and caught a ride back to the airport.

Back in Fairbanks they caught up with the rest of the roster backstage at the building. Lillian's eyes sparkled as she bid him goodbye and went off with Mickie to prepare for that night's show.

"You're looking cheery this morning Jericho," Regal said as Chris headed off to the men's locker room.

Without slowing his pace Chris turned and said, "Did you know that in Dutch Harbor, hell actually freezes over?"

"You're joking," Regal said, his eyes round.

Chris winked, "I'm not."


	2. Ice Water

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these character names, no disrespect is intended.

Ice Water

It was one thing to beat Shawn Michaels to a pulp and make it look like he'd suffered a detached retina, but it was quite another to punch Rebecca Michaels in the face and leave her with a swollen lip. Chris sighed and stirred his coffee as the incident replayed in his mind. Sometimes it was lonely on the road, especially at midnight when he couldn't sleep and there was no one to talk to. He sighed again and dropped the spoon on the table, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"Chris?"

The voice was soft, hardly registered at first, but when he opened his eyes he found Lillian bent low over the table a look of concern in her expressive eyes. Chris pushed himself up in his seat, cocked his head to the side.

"I thought you left by now," he said.

"You should leave Chris," she said softly. "It's nearly 12, and these people want to wrap up and get home."

The crew would be there for hours taking down the ring, the stage, and the lighting structure, but catering was independently contracted. Chris looked over Lillian's shoulder and saw the workers cleaning up and casting furtive looks in his direction.

"They don't have to stick around on my account," he said irritably.

"Yeah, they kind of do," she said with a half smile. "Even if you tell them to leave, if their office finds out heads will roll." She held out a hand, "Come on, you don't need coffee anyway, it's too late and you'll never sleep."

"Go back to the hotel Lillian," he said as he pushed back his chair and stood. He nodded at the staff and picked up his coffee cup. "I'm sure the boys won't mind if I hang out in the arena and watch."

"Chris," she said as she reached forward and took his hand anyway, squeezed it gently, "This is what friends are for, warming each other in icy weather, listening when heavy thoughts weigh you down."

They walked away from the catering table, wandered toward a side entrance to the arena. "This isn't Dutch Harbor in a hurricane Lillian," he said softly, "This will pass, it's just business."

"Was just business," she amended, "But now it's something more personal."

It was noisier in the arena as the crew worked to tear apart the ring and the massive HD stage. Chris and Lillian stopped beside an empty row of seats and he turned to look at her. "You sure you're not tired?"

Her smile was radiant, and she moved in to sink into one of the seats, "Not at all."

With another prolonged sigh, Chris sank into the seat next to her and took a sip of the coffee then set it on the floor next to his feet. He stared moodily out at the empty arena.

"So," she urged, "Talk to me."

"There's nothing to say," he murmured tiredly. "All in a day's work."

"No Chris," she said as she laid a hand on his arm. "Beating up the guys is all in a day's work. I saw the look on your face last night when you rolled out of the ring. All the advanced planning in the world doesn't make hitting a woman any easier to take. Sure, I know there are a lot of men who don't think twice about it, but you're not one of them."

He swiveled his head and narrowed his eyes, "What look?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said you saw the look on my face, what look was that?"

"You looked disgusted, you looked vulnerable," she said. "You let the mask slip."

"Damn," he said, "Why do you see things that aren't there?"

"They are there," she said firmly, "They're there right now. You're pissed that I see through you, and you probably wished I'd leave so you could sulk by yourself. You're drinking coffee because you don't want to go to sleep and relive it in your dreams."

He leaned forward and picked up the coffee cup, took an angry sip and turned away from her so she wouldn't see the nerve she'd struck. Teeth on lower lip he formed the words he wanted to say to her, but they stayed in his mouth as he acknowledged to himself that she was right.

"You're right," he muttered at last, and he turned back as anger flared through him. "I wouldn't admit this to anyone else, but I am proud of my work. I've learned to dig within to find that alternate universe place inside me that says it's just acting. I pride myself on knowing how to deliver the lines, how a soft voice screams louder than a raised one, how choosing the right words does the optimum amount of damage. I've learned how to live in the moment and put the real world outside a barrier. It is a mask, one I know how to wear now." He sat back, slightly out of breath from the intensity. "I'm not an amateur anymore. I'll never be Shawn Michaels because I'm better than Shawn Michaels."

"Then," she said softly, "Why did the mask slip? Why are you sitting here brooding in the dark?"

The anger drained and he gave her a look that was almost a plea for understanding before he deflated back into his seat again. She knew, and he knew that she was just pressing him to say the words out loud.

"Because," he said with an effort, "It goes against my grain to strike a woman."

"Even when," she pressed on, "The only reason you struck her was because he ducked out of the way?"

"Even then," he said. "Seeing her blood on her lip, and the swelling. I guess the reality slipped just a little."

She reached over for his hand again, and they sat in silence watching the last of the ring get carted up the aisle and into the back. If the crew saw them sitting there they kept their eyes averted and allowed them a sense of privacy.

Lillian knew there wasn't much she could say, and she knew that he would make these realizations on his own. This was just a normal reaction for a man like Chris.

At last he squeezed her hand. "It's late," he said.

"Come back to the hotel," she said. "I know it's not cold, but sometimes…"

"Ah Lillian," he said softly as he leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek, "Hell only freezes over in Alaska."

"But this isn't hell Chris, and," she blushed and turned to lean her forehead against his, "Sometimes comfort is just a warm body in your bed."

"True enough," he said.


End file.
